Blood & Shadows
by Arnava
Summary: Sebastian finds himself looking for a delectable new contract. Enter Elizabeth, obsessed with destroying the depraved cult that claimed her husband's life. However, the butler & his mistress may find that their adventures drag them farther into the abyss than the criminals they intend to send there.
1. The Butler: Beginning the Game

In the opinions of the cynical, London's desolate atmosphere was an apt symbol of the doubt and uncertainty plaguing its people at this particular time. Was the dawn of a new era rising to greet them, or was the sun of the glorious era they had known setting, gradually fading into memory? Such was the conflicted attitude of the gigantic crowds of mourners clogging London's streets, straining to watch Queen Victoria's funeral procession. The familiar black that had draped her person for decades had been replaced with white, such an unusual color for mourning that it only added to the uncertainty. The new King Edward VII pursued the horse-drawn carriage on foot, and beside him walked "that German" the Kaiser. Farther back were more distant relatives and the unrelated aristocracy.

On an inconspicuous rooftop, partially hidden from view by the London smog, stood a handsome, disinterested devil. Rarely did the demon find himself in London. _Not after Ciel_ he mused to himself, never quite sure what he felt when thinking of his former master. The coffin of Queen Victoria passed by slowly, a white satin pall draped across it, velvet and ermine drapes as elaborate trappings. It rattled on the gun-carriage it had been placed. With the demise of the Queen, Sebastian could finally breathe a sigh of relief, believing for the first time in years that the dramatic story of Ciel Phantomhive's life and those of his close associates would finally draw to a close.

As he turned to leave, he felt a sharp prickle on the back of his neck, compelling him to refocus his eyes on the procession. One of the unrelated nobles caught his attention, nearly at the end of the aristocratic procession. A genteel lady glided across the cobbles. If a black swan could be heartbroken, then her performance was faultless. Sebastian narrowed his eyes and searched the crowds eagerly to find her soul's scent. Once located, he sucked in a breath. Regret, anger, and corruption so bittersweet he could practically taste it, like strong vinegar. Sebastian stroked his fangs with his tongue and chuckled when he heard his stomach rumble. It had been many years since he'd dined on any soul. _After Ciel…_ His melancholy memories did little to quell his hunger.

A crisp breeze wafted through the air, lifting the miniature veil worn by his mourner. Had his heart been capable of beating, the pale face behind that veil would have stopped it. He recognized those large eyes and the mass of blonde hair immediately. _Elizabeth Midford, Ciel's betrothed_. He wondered what had become of her- meaning what imbecile she'd been married off to. A heavy weight settled in his chest, and Sebastian pinched the bridge of his nose hard. It seemed that all loose ends had not yet been tied up.

Lady Elizabeth Atherton, Dowager Marchioness of Clare, kept her head bowed respectfully as she walked the streets, barely able to see Queen Victoria's coffin. Her eyes did not stray from the hemline of her skirt even when she brushed up against another person and murmured an appropriate apology. Her gaze did not deviate from her starched white gloves even when the cannons roared a last salute to Queen Victoria. Mercifully, the service ended just before the evening temperature plummeted. Snow began clinging to the Marchioness' long eyelashes as she made her way to her carriage. Her gruff bear-like coachman offered her his hand and doffed his brown top hat before shutting the carriage door.

"Where to my lady?"

"The townhome, Mr. Corey." The Marchioness did look up this time, confirming that no observant passerby would see the impending hideous breech in protocol. She tossed the burly coachman three farthings. He knew better than to draw attention to his lady with words, but after a second of his gaping bug-eyed expression Elizabeth muffled laughter with her glove. In a wry voice she commanded him.

"Do try not to donate more than a halfpenny to the grocer when you order your whiskey this evening. You've an early day of it tomorrow."

"Beggin' your pardon, my lady?"

"My daughter and I are expected at the Marchioness of Midford's estate in Buckinghamshire. We leave at first light."

"Of course. But-…my lady, this is too generous!" Elizabeth only chuckled and waved his concern away.

"Somehow I believe our late Majesty would approve of a little merriment. A wake, if you will."

"Right, ma'am."

Several quiet moments passed between Lady Atherton and her servant as he shuffled his feet. Elizabeth cleared her throat demurely and chuckled again.

"Mr. Corey?"

"Yes my lady?"

"Home, if you please."

"Eh…? **Oh**! Straight away, ma'am."

Elizabeth sighed in relief as her carriage finally rolled through London towards her townhome. Camouflaged by the night, a black shadow flew through the night, a mere breath behind the carriage. Just as the carriage bearing the Atherton livery tumbled to a halt, the street lamp across from Elizabeth's townhouse flickered out. The dark demon slithered into the new patch of shadows and leaned against the lamp pole.

Sebastian watched the bumbling coachman help Ciel's former fiancée from her seat. He ran the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip as he watched her sashay to the front door and greedily inhaled to experience the bitterness in her soul a second time. Suddenly, Elizabeth tossed her loose blonde hair over her shoulder and whirled to stare into the night. _Directly at Sebastian._

"Show yourself!" Her sharp command would have rattled the poise of a fellow mortal. Unaffected, Sebastian lingered in the shadows and relaxed his shoulders as he observed her pale green eyes darting around. Lady Atherton shivered and hurried to let herself into her townhome. He chortled to himself _She failed to see me, but felt my presence…how very…unique._ He stepped forward and eagerly studied the front of the townhome, searching for a window into Lady Atherton's bedchamber.

* * *

After lighting the kerosene lamp at her mistress' bedside, Elizabeth's timid maid curtsied and waited for further instructions. Silence reigned. Then, a gentle wave of Lady Atherton's pale hand sent the maid on her way.

"That will be all. Good evening, Brigit."

"Good evening, ma'am."

Elizabeth sighed quietly as the door clicked shut and continued brushing out her soft curls. Shivering a little in her lilac dressing gown, she returned the brush to its proper place on the vanity. The early evening snow had turned to a sloshing downpour since her arrival at the townhouse. A stray flash of lightning outside her window captured her attention briefly. Rising with a discreet little yawn, Elizabeth started to turn away from her vanity. A blur at the corner of the vanity mirror stilled her. The kerosene lamp flickered ominously.

"You haven't outfitted your chambers with electricity yet? _Tsk,_ your household staff is a detriment to your genteel reputation, my lady." Swiftly Elizabeth whirled to peer into the shadows, surpassing a fearful shiver.

She recognized the figure that strode into the center of her bedchamber, impeccably dressed as always.

"Sebastian Michaelis."

"Indeed, my lady." Silence reigned supreme as Lady Atherton studied him in the flickering lamplight, frowning severely.

"My lady, if I may, you are not fast enough to bring the hilt of your dagger around your person. I would disarm you in a heartbeat." Her brows shot to her hairline, a gesture evocative of her mother, the Marchioness of Midford. Her right arm, stretched behind her and only an inch away from the blade she always kept on her person, fell to her side. She huffed angrily.

"Quite a coincidence that I should make your acquaintance again after so many years. You know who I am, don't you Sebastian?"

"You are the Lady Atherton, Dowager Marchioness of Clare. Though when last I saw you, you were simply Miss Elizabeth."

"I suppose you are aware that I as well as the Marchioness of Midford have been trying to locate you and the other former retainers of the Phantomhive family for years?" Sebastian smiled apologetically, hiding the extent of his knowledge.

"Unfortunately, that information did not reach me. I have been…abroad for a very long time."

"Spare me the half-truths and ambiguous answers. I know what you are, Sebastian Michaelis. I am no fool." The black butler ceased smiling and studied the woman standing across from him, collected and cool.

"Then…you know that Ciel-"

"Yes, I know what you were to Ciel. You were his tutor, his advisor…and his spy. On occasion, his _weapon_. Those do not sound like the qualifications of a mere butler." Sebastian raised his brows, watching Lady Atherton gracefully stalk towards him. He could sense a lingering fear, buried deep beneath the surface, beneath her initial emotions. Nevertheless, Elizabeth forced herself to look him directly in the eye. She exhaled and tilted her head at him, as though he were the prey on a sleek jungle cat. It was all Sebastian could do to keep from chuckling; little Elizabeth truly had no idea what she was dealing with, or she would know her bravado was ludicrous.

"Now that you are here, I should like to enlist your services. To the devil with this proposition being 'ill-mannered'." Elizabeth's face did not express any emotion, but her voice rose and fell passionately as she sent the oath into the space between them. Sebastian stepped back for a moment as he continued to look at the Marchioness. No, she had no clue of what he was or what deal he'd forged with Ciel. Perhaps he could use this to his advantage. A deal of souls need not be struck yet; this opening to Elizabeth might be lost if he gambled with too much. The butler called upon his experience as the Phantomhive butler, seemingly so much time, and so many ghosts ago. He bowed respectfully.

"I find there is nothing untoward about it, my lady. If you would permit me, I would be honored to serve your house." The Marchioness huffed again.

"How lovely. A pleasure, really. Now _get out_. You can apply formally come tomorrow morning, before I depart for the country." Her droll reply was dry enough, the kerosene lamp by her bedside could have set it aflame.

"Of course-"

" _ **Out**_." Had he not been caught entirely off-guard, Sebastian might not have allowed the Lady Atherton to wrench him around to face the exit. She jerked the knob, threw open the door, and impatiently pushed the butler out of the candlelit chamber. The door thudded closed behind him, and the butler chuckled upon hearing a dead bolt deliberately click into place. He crept down the stairs without a sound and strode into the pouring cold rain outside. _My, how 'Miss Elizabeth' has changed! Delightful…_

He quickly rounded the street corner, engrossed in thought. Sebastian sensed another presence before he felt a hand snaking down the sleeve of his shirt. He turned to see a small boy, his horror and panic momentarily overwhelming him as he noted the eyepatch.

"Well 'allo sir. You look 'ungry. Care for anything off me trolley _?" It's only a street hawker. This man is not Ciel._ Now he could absorb more minute details, like the age lines, missing teeth and stubble that accompanied the eye patch. His stomach rumbled _. I haven't had a meal since..._ The devil narrowed his eyes calculatingly. _Simple depravity. A hidden envy of the well-to-do. How mainstream. How disgusting._ This particular scum meant nothing, and quite honestly would help tide him over until a new contract was forged.

Sebastian smiled to himself as he embraced the darkly demonic delight that boiled in his bloodless veins. He tugged off his pristine white gloves with his teeth and turned back to face the vendor with a hellish grin.

"Actually…I'm ravenous."


	2. Her Butler: Impressions & Assignments

The Dowager Marchioness of Clare swept out the front door of her London lodgings imperiously. Her wary gaze swept the streets in search of Sebastian Michaelis. But, there was no sign of the butler who had come to call the previous night. A stifled yawn and a squeeze of her upper arm caught her attention. Elizabeth looked down at her precious daughter, Anne, nearly five years old, yet so tiny she could still be comfortably cradled in Elizabeth's arms.

She noticed that Anne had already managed to muss up her carefully arranged golden curls and rumple her skirts. She smiled and gave her sleepy daughter a quick peck on the cheek. The earlier hauteur she displayed when stepping out of the Atherton townhome vanished, and together Elizabeth and her daughter climbed into the waiting carriage with the help of Mr. Corey.

"To where are we journeying, my lady?" The whisper slithered over her skin just after the carriage door clicked shut. Lady Atherton could barely manage not to startle Anne awake.

"Sebastian, you devil!" She hissed furiously. Anne stirred, a stern reminder to Elizabeth to relax her grip on her child. The dark shadow opposite her in the corner of the carriage chuckled quietly.

"Forgive me-"

"Unlikely." The Dowager Marchioness stated uncharitably, brushing the mussed curls out of Anne's eyes with a delicate, gloved hand. With a lurch to the left, the carriage began trundling along the cobbled streets. She determinedly directed her attention to the grim view outside the window without so much as a sneer in the butler's direction.

Sebastian did not break the silence the mistress imposed. It permitted him the leisure of studying his potential new contract, reconciling the cheery young girl that once was with the stoic, unyielding woman in front of him now.

The brick and mortar of the city eventually gave way to flat farmland, and then to green hills and pastures. Was it her imagination, or was breathing easier once Elizabeth was away from London? The worries of society life, the suspicions, both memories and nightmares seemed to have resigned themselves to haunting the Atherton townhome. She smiled at her silly thoughts, reminding herself silently that it was her disciplinarian mother she was travelling to visit. The shadow opposite her moved, and, without thinking, Elizabeth's eyes darted towards Sebastian.

"My lady, if I may ask, what is our destination this morning?" After a pause, Elizabeth answered matter-of-factly.

"It is my belief that you are already aware of…our destination." She felt reluctant to indicate any sort of togetherness or his inclusion into the household. Sebastian noticed her hesitation and inclined his head a fraction.

"Then, may I inquire as to the purpose of our calling at the Marchioness of Midford's country estate?"

"I suspect you know that as well." Her answering smirk was uninviting.

"As you say, my lady."

"Quite. Consider this your interview, Sebastian. Impress me _s'il vous plait_." Elizabeth couldn't resist throwing a tidbit of French in his face, hoping to discern where the devilish butler had hidden for all those years.

" _Avec plasir ma dame_." With a self-satisfied smirk Sebastian threw himself from the moving carriage and flew out of sight. Utterly shocked, Elizabeth bit down on her gloved hand to keep from screaming and startling her daughter into tears. Her mind absolutely refused to provide her with an appropriate or timely response. After a moment, Elizabeth let out a harsh breath she did not realize she'd been holding in. Her decision made, quiet descended upon the carriage occupants once more as Lady Atherton returned to staring blankly out the window. Several long moments passed.

"Mama? May Edward play?" A high little voice and two small arms wrapping around her midriff warmed Elizabeth's heart. She smiled gently at her sleepy daughter.

"Yes, dear. We are off to visit Edward and your grandmother." Anne made a tiny moue of distaste at the word grandmother, and it was all Elizabeth could do not to laugh at her precious, precocious little girl. She pressed her lips to Anne's hairline briefly before replying.

"Don't pout so. Your grandmother loves you dearly-"

"Brush hair! Straight skirts! Be lady!" Anne mimicked wildly. Although, the adorable gap between her front teeth and the lack of proper sentence structure created quite the opposite effect than that earned by her imposing, strict grandmother's commands.

"Hush." Lady Atherton's voice was soft, and quieted her daughter immediately. She ran her palm over Anne's curls again.

"Please, try and rest your eyes a little more. We've more travelling to do."

Anne offered a bashful gap-toothed smile and hugged her tightly, shyly looking up at her mama until her eyes drifted shut and her grip slackened. Elizabeth ran with her thoughts once more. Rain seeped from the skies above, and she abruptly thought of Ciel Phantomhive. Years ago, on a day much like this one, her mother's steely glare kept her tears at bay upon hearing that her dearest friend and fiancé had perished in the great fire of London. Perhaps that was why Elizabeth always hated the city, but perhaps because she had also lost dear Alan, the Marquess of Clare. London was nothing more than memories and nightmares…

Sadness washed over her like water upon petticoats. Her family had fit together like a pair of crisp clean gloves; Alan, Elizabeth, Edward and Anne. Only a year ago they had been together. Now, Alan lay at rest and Edward, her dear son, resided permanently in the country with his grandmother, his ill-health making it impossible for him to come to London with his mother and sister.

"Have I ever been happy since that day?" Elizabeth wondered aloud, softly in the silent carriage. Anne stirred, and Elizabeth drew her lips together in a thin line. Ciel never drifted far from her mind. A familiar hatred sparked to life, and a flush of anger crossed her cheeks. Why had Ciel been taken from her? Why had Alan been taken from her? Why had she failed so miserably to protect them? Her delicate hand curled into a fist, and she set her jaw at the thought of those rapacious murderers escaping into the night.

"Elizabeth! Wipe that sour look off of your face. You are Anne's leading example, as I'm sure you are aware." Elizabeth jumped at the shout, close to that of an army drill sergeant. An hour had seemed like minutes, and now she looked into the eyes of her mother, Lady Francis, Marchioness of Midford.

"Good afternoon, my lady mother. It is so good to see you!" Lady Francis answered with her usual smirk and snapped at the footman to open the door. A single nudge woke Anne immediately, and Anne eagerly leaped into the arms of her grandmother.

"Anne Victoria Francis Atherton, you look slovenly! What have you done to your skirts?! Has your tiring woman run a brush through your hair today?!"

Lady Francis held her granddaughter back at arm's length for a close inspection, making Anne giggle. A steely glance from her grandmother silenced her, and Anne turned her shining green eyes towards her mother, who gratefully took the footman's hand and gracefully descended from the carriage. Lady Francis did not discover anything else untoward about her only granddaughter and sent her on with a maid to attend to said imperfections. Lady Francis snapped her fingers and two parasols were put into their hands. She motioned for Elizabeth to open her parasol and follow her into the gardens.

"How has Edward fared this month, mother?"

"He had a bout of illness after his last outing. He's much farther behind in his studies now. I've tried pushing the boy, but his health is too fragile for him to accomplish anything. A waste, Elizabeth-"

"Edward is my son, mother, and your grandson-"

"Have I ever disputed that? I only say that he could never have lived up to my expectations if he were my son." Elizabeth fought hard to stifle her building anger and continued speaking with her mother as they walked through the garden.

From afar, the black butler observed them impassively. His eyes occasionally darted to an area of interest on the grounds, but always his eyes returned to Elizabeth. He could sense the mounting anger, the delicious bitterness in her soul. Sebastian slid strings of hair behind his ear and swiftly moved away from the country estate. A corner of his mouth turned up briefly before he put on his mask of pleasant indifference. Lady Elizabeth could well be his next contract. Except she belonged to Ciel. But not longer. So mayhap there was no hesitation to be had about procuring this new soul.

Rain continued to pound against the windowpanes that day as Elizabeth sat with her frail son in his bedchamber, watching him play soldiers with Anne. His hair, once the color of corn silk when he was little, had begun to turn brown from his seclusion. His wide grey eyes appeared a little sunken, and often he would turn away from his sister to stifle a coughing fit.

In despair, Elizabeth left her children in the care of their nanny and fled to her own rooms. She sat on the edge of her large fluffy bed and listened to the buckets of rain hammering the country manor roof. Despite that time spent staring blankly into nothing peace did not come for her. A rap on the door made Elizabeth start, and she answered with more anger and venom than she had in the first place.

"Sebastian Michaelis to see you ma'am." The maid curtsied and waited for instructions as Elizabeth stared again. Of course he came back. What did you expect from a former retainer of the Phantomhive family?

"My butler from London." Elizabeth said, promptly miffed at herself. She needn't explain his visit to her mother's maid. What was it that set her on edge about this devil?

"Send the man in, Brigit."

"Will do, ma'am."

Impeccably dressed as always, Sebastian strode into the middle of Elizabeth's bedchamber. The maid left and they gazed at each other for a moment. Elizabeth spoke first, her voice flat.

"You survived."

"An understatement, my lady."

"I am appalled."

"My apologies. But, my lady, are you impressed?"

"Not in the slightest." Sebastian smiled apologetically, hiding the extent of his knowledge. Calmly and impassively, the demon continued to watch her. Just as Elizabeth opened her mouth to dismiss him with finality, Anne burst into her room indecorously and on the verge of tears.

"Mama! I've left Teddy in London! Please, Mama, I no sleep-"

"Cannot sleep, darling. Please calm down." Anne wiped her nose and clasped her hands behind her back sadly. With a gentle smile, Elizabeth bent down and quickly wiped Anne's nose herself with a handkerchief.

"I cannot sleep without Teddy, Mama."

"Miss Atherton, that will be unnecessary." Anne turned to look up at Sebastian as the tall butler towered her and her mother. Elizabeth's grip tightened on her daughter's shoulders when Anne's puzzled gaze returned to her.

"What is uniss-…uneccessury-…"

"Un-ness-ess-aree, Anne darling." Elizabeth corrected quietly. Anne looked up at Sebastian again. With a quick smile, Sebastian opened his black jacket to remove a small, soft white bear, looking stylish in its ironic dark fur coat and red felt hat. With a squeal of delight, Anne wrapped her delicate fingers around the bear. Sebastian relaxed his grip with a nod, letting the girl bring the bear into her chest and hug it tightly. The tears abated instantly. She whirled around to depart.

"Oh thank you Mama! Thank you sir!" The door shut behind her softly, leaving Elizabeth kneeling on the floor and Sebastian standing in front of her, eyebrows raised. Having understood his meaning, Elizabeth offered a disbelieving huff as she accepted his hand and rose to her feet.

"Such impropriety. Imply one thing about our respective positions-"

"I dare not, my lady." Silence reigned for several long moments. With a roll of her eyes, Lady Atherton finally conceded.

"Consider me impressed, butler."

"Thank you, my lady. May I inquire as to my first task?"

"Your first order is to find Lau, the opium dealer." Sebastian felt the devious thrill emanating from her soul and found himself reluctantly intrigued.

"May I ask as to why, young mistress?"

"If I could be certain of your utmost confidentiality…"

"Effective immediately, madam."

"My husband dealt with the trading companies of the Far East. I should like to revive his expansive business holdings, and so am going to reopen dealings through Lau. Now, if you'll set our meeting up…?" Elizabeth had turned away by then and did not see Sebastian's unearthly grin.

"I certainly will, madam."

"Sebastian…"

"Yes, madam?" She looked over the demon once, eyes unexpectedly lingering on his wide-set shoulders.

"Your attire is several years out of date. I expect better from the butler of the Atherton household. See to it before I summon you again."

"With much gratitude, Marchioness. I shall tend to that errand."

Sebastian happened upon Lau shortly after departing from the country home of the Marchioness. He lay on his divan flanked by two small immodest Chinese girls, who fawned over him by batting their long lashes and fanning themselves with delicate, intricately designed paper fans. Sebastian glanced around as he walked towards the Chinese trader.

Thick and heavy drapes smothered the light that otherwise would have filled the room. A dark navy color and low lamplight splashed across the walls. A heavy smoke drifted up from the stairs nearby, and his acute sense of hearing allowed him to pick up a range of giggles and nonsensical murmurs. Clearly, the merchant preferred to remove himself from the open corruption of his opium den. He left a few steps between himself and the dealer when he ceased his long strides across the room. Lau blew a ring of smoke in Sebastian's face before truly realizing who stood in front of him.

"Sebastian! Come, come, take a seat. This is only water vapor in my pipe, you understand."

"We have not had the chance to meet in many years, Lau. Is your sister still about?"

"…Ah yes, Ran-Mao. When it suits her she does spend time in the East End entertaining herself with the…business I have there." Sebastian gave Lau his most obliging, innocent smile.

"Of course. Speaking of, I have come with an opportunity to further your business interests. My mistress would like to engage your services." Lau put his pipe into the hands of the girl to his right and leaned forward eagerly.

"Lovely. I had heard rumors that something was afoot with your new mistress."

"Already? And what precisely have you heard?" Lau colored a little and spread his hands with a shrug. The two girl smiled.

"Ah well, I was hoping you knew."

"You have absolutely no idea, do you Lau?"

"Not at all."

"Then please allow me to enlighten you. Lady Atherton would like to recover what is left of the late Marquis of Clare's interests abroad. Perhaps even expand when the time comes…" Lau widened his eyes.

"You mean…Elizabeth of Midford? Phantomhive's sweetheart?"

"Former sweetheart, Lau. That was many years ago, and as I am sure you are aware, Lady Elizabeth did marry." Lau nodded and narrowed his eyes, but the gleam of intrigue had not left them.

"Yes, a splendid, extravagant affair. I was invited. Then a certain…unknown decided to pursue the Marquis. They achieved success eventually. A lamentable loss, just as Vincent Phantomhive was. As Ciel Phantomhive was-"

"Back to the point, Lau. Lady Atherton would deeply appreciate your services, and I am here on her behalf to invite you to…perhaps make a social call the next time she is in town."

"Of course. Perhaps when the coldest weather or the persistent rain deters prying eyes and ears on the street?"

"I quite agree, as I believe my mistress would. We shall expect you in the afternoon one day then."

"Lovely. Does that conclude your errand here, or would you perhaps enjoy an hour downstairs?" Sebastian bowed his head humbly, his hair hiding the grim smile.

"As the butler of the Atherton family, it goes without saying that my behavior is always above reproach."

"Is that so? Well then, bye!" Lau's customary farewell was abrupt, and he immediately turned his attention back to the ladies at his side. Sebastian solemnly slithered away from the dingy hole of depravity and made for the country estate of the Marchioness.


	3. Her Butler: All Sorts of Undertakings

Sebastian paced around the large kitchen of the Midford country estate with ease. He swiftly snatched spices off of their shelves and deposited them like soldiers in straight lines on the counter near the large stove. An oversized cauldron sputtered on the gas burners of the stove, and Sebastian absently smiled at it while rolling up his sleeves. He turned to the man huddling in front of him and stepped closer.

"We have almost finished. I require you to apply all your strength this time…"

"I'm too tired t' deal wi' this. Please, Mister Sebastian, no more!"

"Just once more, sir."

"I'm just too tired! I can't-"

"Of course you can," Sebastian stated simply with another smile. The gentlemen faced each other and began their task. After a few moments, a sharp crack resounded in the room. The other man jerked back and tripped over a neat stack of freshly cleaned pans, sprawling onto the ground. Tossing their work into the bubbling cauldron, Sebastian then immediately moved to help the man to his feet.

"I do apologize if you have sustained any very lamentable injuries during this activity."

"A touch foolhardy, if you ask me…"

"Indeed. But the Devonshire recipe that Lady Atherton requested calls for six blue crabs. This kitchen does not possess either a mallet, fork, or any other practical utensil with which to crack the shell and separate the legs. The joints are quite tough, and I thank you for helping me dismember them all."

"Seems like a foolhardy way t' do things, but alrigh- gah! How'd you get all them blue crab's innards into the stewpot so quickly?!"

"As the butler of the Atherton family, it goes without saying that I must work quickly and efficiently. Mister Bellamy, wasn't it?"

"Yes sir, Bellamy's me name. Just Bellamy."

The short man staring up at the butler in open fascination could have been anywhere between 17 and 30 years old, his age remarkably well hidden. A pair of cracked old wire spectacles sat on his crooked nose. Sebastian had looked directly at Bellamy when meeting him that morning and met the weary and wizened gaze of an old man. But, his mousy brown hair held no grey and curled neatly behind his ears. Bellamy's pronunciation occasionally indicated an early life of hardship among the working class – perhaps he once lived within earshot of the bells of St. Mary-le-Bow in London –, but his tone was soft as a wind whistling through Midford at night. But beneath his rumpled shirt and tie an observer could see the faint outline of muscles.

"Again, my thanks to you, Bellamy, for helping me with the soup."

"Tell me, sir, is my lady goin' t' let me off now that she's got you?"

"Of course not. I am merely head butler of the Atherton household. The Marchioness of Midford still requires your most satisfactory service."

Bellamy roughly rubbed his right shoulder, and then hopped onto an unused counter to watch with fascination as Sebastian flung an array of tantalizing ingredients and deliciously aromatic spices into the cauldron. Melted butter bubbled as Sebastian stirred, bits celery and onion softening immediately and floating to the surface. He poured frothy milk into and moved to prepare the Melba toast. It would be an understatement to say that the scent of the simmering soup filling the kitchen was heavenly.

"Um…gentlemen? Where is Nanny Kitty?" A feeble trembling voice made Bellamy and Sebastian whirl around and come face to face with Edward Atherton, Elizabeth's beloved but sickly son.

"Good afternoon, Master Edward. Shouldn't you be resting?" Though his smile seemed a tad weak, Edward waved at Sebastian cheerily.

"Good afternoon Sebastian. Nanny Kitty left me. I want to know where she's gone…"

"Ah Kitty probably took a break, sir." Bellamy jumped to attention and bowed at Edward, who chuckled a little. Then the boy started coughing, shoulders beginning to shake violently, and instantly Sebastian was at his side with a handkerchief. Eventually the fit quieted, and Edward shook his head miserably, though not a single silky length of his dark blonde hair slid out of place.

"She is coming back, right?"

"Of course!" Both men answered, a little taken aback. At that moment, in burst a fury of red tangles. If one had attempted to tame and brush aside those knots and twists of red, they would have caught a glimpse of the milky white face of Kitty Connolly, perpetually flustered nurse and nanny of the Atherton household. She stumbled on her own two feet and nearly tumbled head-first into the vat of bubbling soup. Deftly, Sebastian swooped to Kitty's side and gracefully lifted her back onto her feet, ultimately saving Kitty from the embarrassment of having her skirts fly up and rescuing the soup from ruination.

If her hair were not in rats, the company in the kitchen could have seen the vivid blood-red blush that suffused Kitty's face as she nestled into Sebastian's firm grasp. Edward laughed, and spontaneously burst into another coughing fit that an anxious Bellamy attempted to calm. Kitty stuttered and struggled the push her masses of red tangles aside as she stepped back and rushed towards Edward.

"Oh Master Edward, here, here is your favorite handkerchief. It always makes you feel better. Please take it!"

She gave her ward his favorite freshly-pressed blue handkerchief and patted his back while his fit continued. Edward quieted down again and pushed away the cloth. Kitty stood up and nervously fidgeted with her rumpled apron. She fought to brush her hair out of her face and stammered when she spoke to Sebastian.

"T-thank you M-Mister Seb-b-bastian! I'm a-awful so clumsy, an' m-much obliged t-to you." Sebastian suppressed a sigh and resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Honestly, Kitty, your lack of natural poise reminds of-…" Sebastian realized the direction of his thoughts and fell silent. Kitty's face fell and she threw him a concerned look from behind her hair.

"L-like who, M-Mister Sebastian? Y-you thinking o-of y-your b-bonny sweetheart?" Sebastian recovered his manners and gave her an impersonal smile.

"No, Miss Connelly. Merely an old associate of mine." _Mey-Rin_ , he thought to himself, annoyance warring with fondness at her memory. _And her skill with dual pistols._ It seemed to him that signing on with Lady Atherton had wrested the cap off of his memories. Absorbed in the growing flood of recollection he faced, Sebastian paid no heed to the glowing smile of reassurance on Nanny Kitty's face.

Kitty hustled Edward out of the kitchen with murmurs of apologies to the young lord and an apologetic glance at Sebastian and Bellamy. The black butler removed the pot from the stove and expertly transferred it to the elaborate silver tureen nearby. Bellamy hummed and looked out the tiny window.

"Bless Master Edward's soul, he's such a polite mite- I mean gentleman! I'm going t' cook him something real sweet for him on his birthday." Sebastian did roll his eyes this time while Bellamy danced around the kitchen. Today he appeared to be his rash, optimistic 17-year-old self. Perhaps tomorrow he would be his more intrusive, silent 30-yeaar-old persona _. One could only hope_. Sebastian paced proudly out of the kitchen carrying the tureen in one steady hand, and balancing a tray in the other.

He walked out onto a patio that overlooked the rose gardens. The airy breeze ruffled Lady Elizabeth's curls and blew two radical strands of hair into the Marchioness of Midford's face. She glared at them, as though they would desist and retreat in the face of her displeasure. The other women on the patio peered at Sebastian from under the wide brimmed sunhats as his long legs took him to the head of the table, draped with a pristine white lace cloth.

"What do you have for us at this luncheon today, Sebastian?" He bowed respectfully.

"My lady, if I may." Lady Elizabeth waited a moment for the chatter of her companions to die down, and then nodded her assent.

"Today the staff and I at Midford have prepared…" He paused as the guests leaned in. With a grand flourish, Sebastian unveiled the tureen and listened to the quiet hums and murmurs of approval.

"Devonshire crab soup, the breezy tang reminiscent of the quaint seaside of Brighton in East Sussex. For the entrée, delicate cucumber sandwiches will be brought out, followed by citrus ice to offset the heat of this afternoon." The butler served the women seated at the table and bowed again to Lady Elizabeth, who held her hand out imperiously.

"Please see to it that the gardeners have pruned the rose bushes for our afternoon constitutional."

"Very good, my lady." Sebastian returned leisurely to the kitchens of the Midford country estate. He inhaled calmly, flipping his hair behind his ear and savoring the silent kitchen. _Finally! One delightful moment of solitude._ The butler could not hope for peace, firstly because of his devilishness and secondly… _Not after Ciel._ Sebastian rolled his and allowed himself a tiny smirk. _Really, I am becoming so maudlin._

* * *

Then, Sebastian braced himself and swung out the single window crudely cut into the bricks of the kitchen. Without breaking a sweat, he climbed a tree to the rooftops of the manor and glided gracefully across the tiles. Soundlessly, the devil flew down a gutter pipe and dove through a tiny opening in of the manicured hedges of the gardens. None but Lady Atherton heard the most miniscule little rustle of leaves as the unnatural butler positioned himself and waited, motionless, awaiting the conversation to start. The supremely efficient devil had already seen to the pruning of the rose bushes beforehand. Unknown to the Marchioness of Midford, Lady Atherton had dismissed the gardening staff for the day.

A stiff voice broke the pleasant silence first, one Sebastian recognized as belonging to the old steel-haired matron Lady Marsbury.

"Do allow me to say, Lady Atherton, that you have acquired an excellent staff." The rather scandalous and ill-mannered young Lady Spell tittered and jumped in with her own inapt commentary.

"Let us hope your second husband will allow you to replace his own household with yours, or I daresay calling on you won't be near so pleasant."

Sebastian chuckled a little at the ensuing flurry of questions directed at his mistress. Though the Marchioness of Midford was the only woman he could not detect through the shrubbery, he knew that she would barely conceal her murderous glare towards Lady Spell. The chatter sounded quite banal and not very intriguing in the least, but Sebastian remained, unmoving and oblivious to the heat of the sun on his black wool uniform.

As the ladies pursued one particular vein of chatter, he was hyper-aware of his mistress' silent, impatient tapping on the rim of her glass with her finger. Sebastian watched as she daintily tasted the Devonshire recipe, knowing instinctively that a corner of her mouth twitched upward in reluctant approval. With a stern frown, the puzzled devil forced himself to focus on his mistress' guests.

"I was quite surprised to hear tell that the Duke of Grimsbury is entertaining this season."

"In London?!"

"Ah, I was quite astonished as well!"

"Oh yes, I'm terribly surprised." The sarcasm in Lady Atherton's agreement was close enough to the surface for her mother the Marchioness to send a suspicious glare in her direction. Nevertheless, Sebastian found himself impressed by the serene blankness of his mistress' countenance, devoid of any hint that her comment was anything but sincere and polite. Her bland half-smile made her appear merely pretty, but her hair glowed with the intense attention of the sun as it shone on her.

He was distracted again, and Sebastian frowned again.

"I was pleased to have received an invite to His Grace's estate in London at the beginning of the season." Lady Spell fanned herself delicately. Neither Lady Atherton nor the Marchioness of Midford directly engaged the young woman. Rather, the Marchioness turned to her daughter with curiosity in her usually unyielding gaze.

"Accepting an invitation to His Grace the Duke of Grimsbury's estate would be a practical and pleasant event at which you could make a proper reintroduction into society." Sebastian managed to keep himself from rolling his eyes.

"I have already accepted an invitation, madam, and for the very same dinner party to which Lady Spell is alluding." Lady Atherton responded to her mother's barely concealed instruction coolly.

"Oh, we shall have to start corresponding after we leave our respective estates, Lady Atherton. I should like to know the outcome of this dinner party." A fresh-faced young woman close to Lady Spell turned the tide of the conversation expertly.

At a small snap of Lady Elizabeth's fingers, Sebastian appeared in the doorway of the veranda to clear away the dishes. He would have hours to see to the proper cleaning of the table setting, and perhaps polish the grand staircase, before the party ended and his mistress called on him again.

Dusk neared its end as the moon ascended into the sky and the bustle of visitors and servants slowed to nothing. Just as he applied the last coat of Guardsmen's Wood Polish to the bottom rungs of the stairs, his ears pricked at the sound of a high silver bell. He rose and flew to his mistress' boudoir, where Anne played quietly with her dolls beside her mother.

"I have managed to avoid a month of the season, Sebastian. But, no longer. My mother believes it is high time I returned to London and reentered society, preferably before the middle of March. I had already made preliminary arrangements, but you must oversee the remainder of the packing if we are to leave in two days' time."

"Of course madam."

"I expect to entertain one private visitor immediately upon my return."

"At least one, my lady, without a doubt."

"Exceptional. Thank you, Sebastian. On a different matter, I should very much appreciate coffee tomorrow morning whilst I interview governesses for Anne. Perhaps a simple sweet Danish pastry as well, since I must also miss breakfast with my mother to meet with the Spaniard arriving tomorrow. We have some… trade in Spain to attend to before moving any farther forward."

"But we are moving forward regardless. Is that correct madam?" She studied a small paper in her hand with an angry frown.

"Yes. The gathering this afternoon was splendid. I hope you now know their voices and faces well, Sebastian." Anne made an exploding sound nearby and momentarily distracted Lady Elizabeth.

"Nurse Nightingale! We have more soldiers to-"

"I have memorized what I needed to, my lady." She abruptly refocused on her butler with a frown. Anne continued to play, oblivious to the scheme unfolding a foot away. Lady Elizabeth tossed a grainy tin-type photograph onto the coffee table and pointed a sharply manicured nail at the face.

"I've another undertaking for you this evening, Sebastian. This man here holds the reigns of the paltry few Atherton interests in Shanghai. Ivan Filipovic."

"A Serbian, my lady?"

"Quite. I have reason to believe he is selling off our family stocks without permission and pocketing the proceeds. I have received complaints from the widows of the workers he has supervised, claiming they never received compensation. After closer inspection of his records, I learned that he utilizes some…unacceptable connections in dealing with these allegations. My genteel attempts to further examine and modify his operating style have not been successful. Any representatives I send in my stead fail to report back to me. Perhaps you could find more effective and less hazardous methods of investigation and confrontation?"

"Very good, madam. I will see to it. Should Mister Filipovic prove uncooperative, what recourse am I to pursue?"

Elizabeth looked mildly uncomfortable for a split second, as though she didn't quite believe she had to spell it out for her butler in front of her little girl.

"Kill him, of course." Sebastian straightened to his full height, determined not to let Lady Atherton see how completely she had shocked him.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I would prefer to leave as few unsavory, revenge-bent loose ends in my wake as possible."

"...Ah, you would have me-"

"Must I repeat myself a second time? Or was I incorrect about the nature of your contract with Ciel?"

 _Yes._ The devil was so tempted to reply honestly. His mistress had hit her mark expertly, although she was still unaware of the fact. He chose a different response.

"That is most certainly among my skill set, my lady. If you will allow me, is this interaction about the standards of the Atherton Company or revenge?" Elizabeth considered the question for a moment before offering a subtle shrug with her answer.

"Why not both? I have no intention of yielding either ambition for the sake of the other. You have your instructions, Sebastian."

"Of course, Madam." He exited the room and strode down the hall quickly, eagerly tearing his clean gloves off with his sharp teeth. There would be no use in getting blood on such a costly pair of gloves. No reputable butler of the Atherton family would stain any aspect of his uniform.

* * *

Ivan Filipovic stepped out of an opium den into the crisp Shanghai night, a self-satisfied smile marring his features. A bedraggled beggar approached him, and Filipovic shoved the poor man away with a vicious sneer. He pocketed four hundred pounds he'd been clutching in his fist and strutted down the empty narrow streets towards his sumptuous home, twirling his cane. A cat hissed and he paused briefly.

"Mister Filipovic, how nice to make your acquaintance…" He started and whirled around to face a shadow; he strained to see eyes, or any aspect of this dark person's face. All he could see was a grim grin.

"Ay! I don't care what you are selling or doing. I'm not interested." The shadow slithered into step beside him. He dared a sideways glance and Filipovic still only saw the menacing smile.

"I think you _will_ be interested, Mister Filipovic. I am on official business from England, inquiring into the well-being of Atherton Company's workers and profit margins."

"None of your damned business, Englishman!" The lilt of Britain was a dead giveaway for the Serb, and he relaxed for a short moment. But relief faded as the shadow appeared to grow before his eyes, and melted into his path, preventing Filipovic from stepping past him.

"Oh it is my business, sir. I would also like to know what you have sold for four-hundred pounds just now…"

He sneered and burst through the shadow all at once, clutching his ill-gotten gains tightly and running in the direction of his home. The shadow pursued him with a fearful speed, and the breath caught in Filipovic's throat. He glanced back and could still only stare in horror at the widening smile of the shadow.

"You tell that meddling woman to keep her nose out of our business."

"I am sure Lady Atherton would be intrigued to hear about _your_ business. She still owns it, I presume?"

"Go away!"

"What have you sold, Mister Filipovic?" The horrifying whisper sent spasms down the man's spine. He dug into his pocket for the money and hurled it into the empty street.

" _Pomôžte mi_!" He cried out for help in his native tongue. He turned to continue his run but stopped in cold terror as the shadow enveloped him, bringing him to the cobbled ground. He whined and hugged himself as the shadow drew near and peeled back its licked lips to speak.

"Tell me, how much tasteless enjoyment do you get by selling off the pension of a widow and her children? Perhaps you have a deeper secret hoarded in the recesses of your mind?"

"I-I'll…I'll t-tell you anything!" Quietly removing neatly folded sheaths of paper from the breast pocket of Filipovic's fine suit, the devilish shadow terrified him with another horrid grin. The man started shaking uncontrollably as the shadow watched him with amusement.

"No need. Your accounts and records have told me all I wished to know. I merely needed the list of associates you keep on your person at all times. Mister Filipovic, I commend you for your service to Atherton Company. At this time, Lady Elizabeth Atherton, Dowager Marchioness of Clare, has decided to terminate your employment..."

Two guards leaving the luxurious compound of Ivan Filipovic heard an unearthly scream of terror. The burly guards rushed around the corner and saw their master Filipovic lying huddled on the dirty cobbles of the street. The burlier guard turned him over and felt for a pulse. Then he turned to his comrade.

"God help us. Master Filipovic is dead!"

"There's not a soul around to have killed him." Both guards looked and saw nothing, not even a corner hidden from the bright moonlight.

"This is no murder. Look at his face. Clearly he died of fright."


	4. Her Butler: Business as Usual

"My lady, it is time to wake up." Sebastian heard a quiet grumble before Lady Elizabeth Atherton opened her wide eyes and stared up at him crossly from her canopied bed. Sebastian gestured to an elegant bone china tea set perched on the nearest mahogany table.

"For breakfast this morning I have prepared poached eggs with a slice of honey baked ham. At your request, there are apricot scones with fresh clotted cream on the side. I took the liberty of using the Gladstone set with orange blossoms to serve you a brew of-"

"Let me guess the blend." With a pleasant smile Sebastian poured a steaming cup and smoothly placed it into Elizabeth's cold hands as she struggled to a sitting position. With a savoring sniff, Elizabeth placed her pale lips on the rim and took a sip whilst he waited patiently. She titled her head and looked at her butler curiously.

"Fig and rose, a very peculiar herbal flavor. Delicious all the same."

"Very good madam."

"My maid will be arriving any moment to help me with my attire for the day. Stoke the fire in the library and see to its cleaning, and then instruct Bellamy to prepare a later luncheon. Rouse Anne at eight o'clock and see that she is judiciously occupied for the duration of the morning. If you will please await me in the hall afterwards, we've a guest to expect at eleven."

"I shall begin preparations straight away, my lady. If you will excuse me…"

"Yes, go and attend to everything."

He smirked as he quit his mistress' room and his dark eyes were lit with ambition _. Let us begin then. Before all else, I shall rekindle the warming flames in the stately hearth of the library on the first floor. I shall polish the fire pokers to reveal their gleaming silver elegance and dust every last inch of the room. Not a breath of today's chill is to reach the guest received in the library, so the finest draperies of plum will be hung on the large windowpanes, leaving just a hint of the grey sky outside for natural light. Then I shall present today's luncheon menu to Bellamy and awaken Miss Anne. The epitome of Atherton hospitality will be on show today._

* * *

A disastrous sight greeted the butler when he set foot in the kitchen. At least three pounds of flour had spilled onto the tiles, creating a powdery mist that engulfed the room. Milk was leaking from one of the glass jars delivered that mourning. As it fought the flour for space on the tiles, the pale mixture became a fast-rising dough.

Sebastian felt a headache coming on and pressed his gloved index finger down on the bridge of his nose. _This area was spotless less than two hours ago. Alright where's that imbecilic excuse for a chef_ -

He gingerly stepped further into the fray when he heard a dry cough. The cook Bellamy had set his cracked glasses aside and haphazardly rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. The heat of the open fire made his brown hair even curlier, making him appear very young today. Whatever he was churning in the small pot over the fire smelled…edible. In Sebastian's mind, that was a vast improvement from when the late Marquis of Clare – Lady Elizabeth's _dearly beloved_ Alan – first hired the man.

Sebastian cleared his throat with a click of his heels.

"Bellamy, what-"

"Oh, good mornin' sir! I was just goin' t' let off and come find you. I've gotten much better at breakfast I have." The cook wrung his hands as he noticed for the first time the congealing dough behind him. When Sebastian crossed his arms and raised a brow, Bellamy sheepishly shrugged his shoulders and held his hands out.

"Well…eh-heh I uh...maybe I ain't so good at it all yet but I'm goin' t' keep making progress."

Sebastian rolled his eyes and bent over to inspect the bottles of fresh milk that lay in a crate on the floor. He picked up the offending one and held it out to Bellamy.

"See here, Bellamy-"

"Eh? See what?"

"With your spectacles, Bellamy. Yes, those spectacles. Yours. You remember how to put them on?"

"Alrigh', sir… Gah! One of the bottles has a crack in it!"

"Indeed. When the deliveries come by in the morning, might I suggest you be wearing the spectacles?"

"Of course sir."

"Thank you."

"Anything else, sir."

"Yes. Try not to store an opened flour bag upside down. I'll need you to dispose of the empty burlap bag now that its contents are on the floor."

"Right away, sir. Just give me a minute t' get breakfast off the fire-"

"That's alright, Bellamy. I will take care of it for you." With a nod of his head the cook snatched the flour sack and headed outside.

When Bellamy returned, cleaner and with a bucket of warm water to mop up the mess, he found the kitchen spotless. The counters and tiles gleamed in the lamplight. Every wooden surface appeared freshly polished. He could see outside through the window. The rusty sink sparkled, and the water was clear when the cook turned on the faucet. The cauldron he used for breakfast lay near the sink, clean and dry. The shockingly pristine state of his kitchen might have killed the cook were he any less used to Sebastian.

"Here's the luncheon menu for you, Bellamy, at Lady Atherton's request. Miss Anne also thanks you for her porridge."

"I added cinnamon this time t' see if Miss Anne liked it. Did she?"

"Very much. Lady Atherton would also like me to convey to you that you have the evening off with her gratitude."

"Thank you, sir! And thanks t' Lady Atherton! The non-perishable items I went out for are in the pantry for you to deliver t' her ladyship. Anything else, sir?"

Sebastian pressed down on the bridge of his nose again and shook his head with a chuckle.

"Just _try_ not create a disaster in the kitchen, in the event that our guest desires a tour. Dismissed."

Sebastian examined the non-perishable items – newspaper clippings announcing the mysterious death of one Ivan Filipovic, and a handful of diamonds from Elizabeth's most recent investment – and placed them on his mistress' desk in the library before returning to his daily rounds.

Bellamy was a fairly decent cook, but his talents would lie first and foremost with smuggling and disguises.

* * *

Aside from the kitchen incident, the black butler's preparations went off without a hitch, so much so that Sebastian accomplished all his duties and arrived in the main hall of the Atherton town home at precisely ten o'clock. Elizabeth entered the main hall from her library forty minutes later, expressing no surprise at Sebastian's earliness.

"Your preparations are well done, Sebastian."

"Thank you, my lady."

She absently smoothed the navy ruffled sleeves of her dress. As Elizabeth glided towards her butler, ruffles on the hem of her skirt subtly swished, held in check by the heavy draping fabric of the skirt that dripped from the tight black waist. At the top center of her starched white neckline rested a gilded cameo, obviously that of a man's profile. She caught him observing her and imperiously raised her brows.

"Have you some criticism to offer on my attire, Sebastian?"

"No my lady."

"Then stop staring."

"Of course, madam. My most sincere apologies…"

They waited in silence for the shrill chime of the doorbell, Elizabeth remaining rigidly upright and pointedly away from her butler. Sebastian maintained his detached countenance and kept his straight posture as well while they whittled each minute away. Finally a heavy fist made the front door shudder and Sebastian moved to answer. But the guest did not wait, and as the door flew open Elizabeth and Sebastian could see Lau wave at them cheerfully. Whilst her eyes were daggers aimed at the trade manager, Sebastian spared a glance down at the pale hand hidden in the subtle pocket in the first fabric fold near the waist. Just as swiftly as Lady Atherton had grasped it in preparation for a potential fight, the gilded dagger was secreted back into its sheath. His lips twitched despite himself. _My, Elizabeth has greatly changed. Marvelous_. Oblivious to it all, Lau stepped in, allowing the butler to close the door behind him, and hurried towards the mistress.

"Why hello, my lady!" He lunged as though he would envelope her in a big bear hug. Elizabeth swiftly stepped aside and watched with an amused smirk as Lau landed face first on the pristinely polished wooden floorboards.

"An absolute pleasure to see you again, Lau, and thank you so much for accepting my invitation. Shall we adjourn to the library?" He hopped back onto his feet and rubbed his sore nose. He ran an unsure hand over his jet black long hair and let it rest at the nape of his neck as he smiled at Elizabeth.

"I am very curious to see what sort of contract we can agree on, my lady." Elizabeth gestured to Sebastian, and he immediately strode down the hallway and opened the doors to the cozy library, glowing with the cheering warmth of a roaring fire. Lau followed her as she swept into the room and took the high backed chair closest to the fire while nodding for him to sit. When he leaned back into his chair, the glint of the flames reflected off of his silk robes and made her grimace distastefully.

"Could you not have chosen less…loud colors to visit us in, Lau? Surely they could spy you from Buckingham palace in that outfit." He smirked and raised his arms, the huge billowing bright orange and yellow sleeves reminiscent of an endangered tropical bird of the Amazon.

"I do really like these robes, Lady Atherton, and with the heavy rain outside I doubt any interested party would have taken notice if I'd arrived naked on your doorstep."

"Which, thank merciful God, did not happen…" Elizabeth mumbled reassuringly to herself, eyes cast heavenward as if asking for patience. Sebastian coughed and laid another ornate set in from of them, different from the tea set used for breakfast that morning. She nodded approvingly.

"An excellent choice, Sebastian. I thought the Herend chinoiserie lost."

"Of course not, madam. Please help yourself Lau."

Lau inspected his nails with a small absent smile as Elizabeth poured the strong brew. After a moment of holding the Chinese-pattern cup to her lips, Elizabeth frowned.

"You are a very busy man, Lau, and we both know this isn't a simple social visit designed to waste your time." Lau downed his portion in one greedy gulp and narrowed his eyes at her.

"I do not consider this 'wasting time'. No matter what business proposition you want to lay on the table something amusing will come of it, I'm sure. You intrigue me and entertain me. I do thoroughly enjoy being entertained…"

"So you would consider the continual suffering of my children to be amusing?" Lau said nothing but had the grace to blush a deep mortified red.

"Ah, no. The underbelly of your beloved Britannia is home to many dark creatures. But there are rules, you know. Leave the innocent alone; play by the rules, or you will suffer at the hands of all your fellow ne'er-do-wells… Funny, that. It seems that the Englishmen are the ones to break the most rules. Fine country you were born to, my lady." An insolent smirk on his face, Lau whistled the tune of "Rule, Britannia" in a cracked key. Sebastian watched his lady's pert little nose wrinkle.

"How…unimaginative. Regardless, I would appreciate having your services at my disposal. I am going to be doing some…rule-breaking."

"M-hmmm. I know."

"Well then, I should like you to please enlighten me on how to proceed." The Asiatic businessman made a choking sound in the back of his throat and tugged at his collar.

"Ahem. Yes, about that…" Lau's mouth dropped and Sebastian merely raised one corner of his wide mouth as Elizabeth laughed quietly.

"This is so like the days of my youth that it's absurd! You really have no clue what I am referring to, do you Lau?"

"Not in the slightest, my lady. Though I can surely agree that whatever intriguing little opportunity you have for me, I will not refuse."

"No? No…I suppose not." Just as suddenly her mouth hardened and her eyes flashed with some undefinable glint of emotion. Without warning she swished to her feet and coaxed an old map down from the wall behind her. Her index finger landed precisely on a name resting on the west bank of the Rhine.

"Lau, may I introduce to you the city of Mayence-"

"A pleasure to meet you, Mayence, but, my lady, what does this have to do with-"

"I am getting to that." Elizabeth reminded him testily, showing a bit of the famous impatience her mother possessed in spades. She gestured to the bold letters that spelled Germany above the city's name.

"Mayence is a German city, quite antiquated actually. The Romans established a fort with which to police the empire's northern frontier in the late first century B.C. Since the industrial laws are a tad more…relaxed in Germany, we will base our operations there. Tensions have been riding high among England's Western counterparts-"

"And Russia." Lau chuckled to himself at his little joke.

"My point, Lau, is that we have a fantastic opportunity to capitalize on these political "strains". I intend to close the late Lord Atherton's operation in Liverpool-" Lau drew in a sharp breath and narrowed his eyes until they were little more than slits. The gears of his ruthless businessman's mind were grinding at full speed now.

"I have several interests in Liverpool, interests that would remain much healthier if you did not pull one of the largest industries from the area."

"Ah, wait a moment. Atherton Company would still have its place in Liverpool, but two of the five manufacturing plants would be outsourced. I would outsource this industry to Mayence, and provide some rather…modern outfits in regards to the machinery. Think of the profits we would earn selling off our wares to the highest German bidder. Or French, given that the border is relatively close. Only 283 kilometers, which is passable. Sabastian, remind me, how long would the journey to Verdun be?"

"Approximately two hours and forty one minutes, my lady."

"Excellent. Thank you." Elizabeth paced towards Lau's chair and placed her hands on either armrest so she could study him. A grim smirk appeared.

"You will agree to this arrangement. I am offering to help you gain a foothold in two very economically viable nations, with connections to some of the largest expanses of colonies you could ever hope to gain access to. Your branch could expand into potentially four European states should the need arise for withdrawal to Luxembourg and Brussels. I am not requesting money. I am not even requesting that you dirty your hands. All I ask is your cooperation."

For a long moment Lau kept his narrowed eyes trained on Elizabeth's large sparkling irises. Her breaths were steady, which indicated a steady nerve, and he unconsciously nodded in approval. He cleared his throat and rasped one question.

"And what else?" Elizabeth arched an eyebrow and ran the tip of her tongue over her slightly parted upper lip. Her smile was meltingly slow and seductive in its deviousness. Her thin shoulders lifted and would have brushed her hair back had it been loose; her shrug was the epitome of elegance.

"Oh, perhaps a small share of stock in your operations in Kong Rong? Which I would gladly pay full market price for." His lips pursed for a split second as he glanced at Sebastian, his expression perfectly ambivalent.

"I assume you will not just be building cargo ships anymore? What items did you have in mind for this…German venture?" Sensing his agreement, Elizabeth leaned away from him and let her calculating smile widen.

"Arms, Lau. We are going to manufacture weapons-grade steel and arms. Top of the line, available to anyone and everyone who will pay the price, and of untraceable origin of course."

"Hmmm…" With a dismissive wave, a sigh, and a nod of his head, the shrewd businessman had disappeared and Lau offered a wan smile.

"My you've been a busy bird lately! What a chore you've put on my shoulders…but I was not disappointed. I like the sound of these games we are going to play." His childish enthusiasm was all they needed to become unspoken partners, and thus negotiations were concluded. Then came the endless plans, drawing up of maps and instructions, division of profits and statistical drudgeries that would have made a less determined lady's vision spin. Lau lingered for a much delayed lunch of vegetable stir fry, and even paused to watch young Anne Atherton, with a charmed and open expressiveness so like her mother's in her youth.

When he finally left, Elizabeth shooed her butler from her side with a wordless glare of dissatisfaction. She clutched her outdoors coat to her, sliding into it slowly as she scanned the sky outside for any threatening rain. When a pleading Anne reached her small arms up for her own coat, her rarely-indulgent mother allowed herself company on her brisk walk through the puddles of the private garden, still lush despite the chill and depressing autumn weather. Her heart panged with worry after her daughter started to sneeze, so the pair hustled inside swiftly. Blind trust practically radiating from Anne as she dumped her coat onto the floor of the entry hall. The precious child devotedly followed her mother to her boudoir, clung to her mother's skirts and climbed onto her lap. Elizabeth had barely finished retying the bonnet under the chin of Anne's porcelain doll when she swatted a thumb out of her daughter's mouth. Not unkindly, she smiled at her darling little girl.

"Anne, my dear, you are simply too old to suck on your thumb."

"But why, Mama?"

"Because, you are growing up to be a lovely young lady. Tell me, what do you think Grandmother would do if she ever saw me put my thumb in my mouth?" Anne gasped and giggled, wagging her tiny index finger at her mother. With a light kiss on the forehead Elizabeth sent her daughter off to rejoin her blissful tea party with her ceramic dollies and the soft stuffed bear she had received from her father less than a year ago. She and Edward had played together then, when they were all happy and healthy and in the same house. How her stomach sank when she yearned for the happiness they had together! Ridiculous games of make-believe, mock swordfights, nights reading by the fire in the library. Even Alan had joined in on Anne's tea parties. Her mother, surely, would have an apoplectic fit if she ever realized that she had married off her daughter to a man who thought nothing of munching imaginary crumpets and helped his daughter name her stuffed animals!

* * *

Elizabeth mounted the stairs with a sluggish gait, sighing as she heard the grandfather clock in the parlor announce six o'clock. The whole day had passed her by. Not even bothering to ring for her maid Brigit, Elizabeth strained to undo the buttons at her back. In less than ten minutes, she threw herself into the chair by her vanity with an irritable huff and began shaking out her carefully arranged hair. She would have to send for her maid. Her feet ached from the walking she'd forced herself to complete, and the corset she'd worn today had been so properly laced that her collar bones and shoulders blades were screaming in protest from a day of rigid posture. She rubbed at one shoulder hopelessly, only to gasp at the warmer, broader hand that replaced her hand and began to knead away the tension.

Mustering her strength, Lady Atherton's dagger was unsheathed in a blink, but a second hand clamped down on her other shoulder and kept her from whirling to slice the intruder to bits. A low chuckle shivered its way down her spine and made the hairs on her arms stand up. With a hiss through her teeth, she glowered at her mirror.

"An intricate blade, my lady. Should I be concerned about the use you might have for it, or is it only a precaution?"

"How dare you, Sebastian Michaelis?! You call yourself a butler?" His smile was indolent, his glowing amber gaze holding hers as he continued pressing deep into the sore muscles of her shoulders. A fingertip, too light for Elizabeth to convince herself that he was truly there, rested at the top button near her neck.

"My lady, please do permit me to get you ready for the night."

"If you wish to keep a proper job, sir, you will unhand me and quit the room!" At that moment he dug into the last painful knot in her left shoulder, and Lady Atherton stifled a moan of relief as she could finally slump over her dressing table. She clenched her fist angrily, but could not prevent Sebastian from prying her dagger out of her fingers and settling it gently on the table. The words had flown to Sebastian's ear before Elizabeth could stop herself.

"I shall never give anyone enough power to frighten me again."

"My lady?" He trailed down the line of buttons, releasing each from its clasp slowly.

"My son Edward loathes thunderstorms. A thunderstorm is what started his having fits. I remember thinking how large his eyes were for one so small that night."

"The night my lord-"

"Yes, Sebastian. He was only six, and he worshipped his father. I remember huddling against the window in this room, clutching Edward and Anne to me as I waited for the door to be broken down and our lives to be snuffed out. I could hear Alan cry out and…and a heavy thud…" Elizabeth swallowed visibly, but Sebastian uttered no sound. She straightened abruptly and wrenched her dagger out her butler's slack grip.

"I will not cower in fear of my life again."

"Do you truly believe a letter opener would aid you in that goal? Truly my lady?" Sebastian could feel his throat drying, his anticipation was so great. He brushed a sure hand down the undergarments Lady Atherton wore with an unholy look of glee. Ask more questions, push her farther. You could finally have a new contract, a new soul to feed your own starving one.

"I have studied archery, strategy and fencing from a young age Sebastian. The heirs of Middleton are not dainty flowers."

"Then why is it that you do not feel safe in your own home?"

"I am not afraid. I am keeping watch." The devil could sense in her soul that she lied. He leaned forward, about to offer her the contract. Elizabeth spoke again.

"But if I were, I would never turn to you, Sebastian, nor anyone else. I do not doubt your skills, but after Ciel…" Just as soon as it had enveloped him in its beastly talons, the hunger to ensnare a fresh soul died and Sebastian felt hollowed out. An alien feeling gnawed at him. _Was it.. **guilt?!**_ One hand squeezing her right shoulder, he firmly twisted a long golden wave around his hand.

"I want to cut all of this off." Elizabeth only glowered.

"I beg your pardon?" He chuckled darkly like the demon he was, without giving so much as a thought to reigning himself in. He placed his other hand at the nape of her neck, slid his fingers down in a caress.

"You say you shall never allow fear again. What if I produced a pair of shears this very instant? Would you be afraid, seeing the sharp blade so close to your veins, hearing the rusty rasp as I cropped your hair so that it curled around those small ears?" Elizabeth shivered but continued to glare. Sebastian leaned closer to her ear.

"In that moment, when you waited for death, did you feel the absolute thrill, the rush of knowing the scaly hand of a grim reaper might be reaching towards you? Admit it, you loved that fear as much as you hated it." For an instant the mask of anger fell away and Sebastian saw what he had sensed when he'd first seen the Midford seal upon her carriage that fateful day. She was Miss Elizabeth again, Ciel Phantomhive's fiancé, childish, optimistic, fearful, angry, and electrified. _What an expressive little soul! A culinary mecca to be sure_. Sebastian leaned down towards her neck like a vampire would advance towards its prey. Elizabeth jolted as if suddenly waking up and elbowed him hard in his ribs. Though it had no real effect, the butler released her just the same. She rose as gracefully as she could with her hair down and her dress completely open in the back.

"The next time your…lecherous tendencies threaten to control you, I suggest you remember that we have not yet made a formal contract, Sebastian Michaelis. As for fear…"

It was the first time in hundreds, perhaps a thousand years that Sebastian heard his black heart beating in his chest. Its rhythm pounded into his lungs and sent a rush of blood through his veins as Lady Atherton yanked him close and pressed her soft lips to his, her teeth grazing his bottom lip. She ran her thumb along his jaw quickly, efficiently. Just as swiftly she yanked on his black hair, jerking him back, and pushed him away. Pausing to grimace in mock disdain, Elizabeth roughly wiped her mouth and gestured to the door.

"That slight impropriety was quite terrifying. Now get out. You will be nowhere near my rooms until breakfast time tomorrow morning." He bowed without hesitation, attempting to mask his disbelief with his casual smile.

"Of course my lady." He swept into the hallway without as much as a backward glance. He strode away from his mistress' room with his tongue gliding over his fangs. The butler did not take heed of the ominous storm brewing outside, premature flashes of lightning already ripping through the churning clouds. For a demon, nothing superseded the promise of sating hunger. His next meal was going to be the scrumptious Elizabeth Midford Atherton, and he couldn't help but whispering fiercely to himself as he descended the staircase.

"Mine!"


	5. Her Butler: Evening Engagements

_Will this drudgery never cease?!_

Elizabeth, Dowager Marchioness of Clare, sighed inwardly, artlessly arranging a pleasant smile on her face and feigning interest in the young gentleman on her right. The tedious conversation, the monotonous dining ritual so common among her peers, was practically second nature to Elizabeth. To keep alert, she mentally began checking off the many refined behaviors required for this dinner party. _My evening gloves? Folded neatly in my lap, under my napkin. Perfect._

"I have recently been awarded a colonelcy, so I am now properly invested in His Majesty's armed forces." The dining companion to her right prattled on amiably. Another exchange arrived from across the table.

"I am afraid that the Viscount Merton's small talk was quite small indeed!" The impertinent Lady Spell confided none too quietly in the guest to her right. A sharp intake of breath from one of the elder, higher ranking women at the other end of the table brought a genuine smile to Elizabeth's lips. The tips of Lady Spell's fingers were resting on the table. The smile faded briefly as she glanced down to check her own deportment. _Hands and arms must never rest on or near the table. Sit straight and do not lean into the back of the chair. Impeccable._ The stays of her corset were laced very tightly again, the diabolically accurate work of her townhouse maid, so remaining upright would be no problem at all. Gracefully rising from her chair at the end of the meal, however…

"My Lady, it is time to turn." Elizabeth steeled herself to keep from jumping at the sound of her butler Sebastian's subtle voice close to her ear; the whalebone material of her stays pressed into her lower back forcefully, and she barely concealed her wince. One glance in the direction of her hostess showed that she now leaned to the dinner partner on her left, signifying for everyone to follow suit. Her hostess was the chestnut-haired beauty Rosella Griffith, Duchess of Kedington. If she delivered anything less than perfection at this party, Elizabeth's mother would be absolutely irate; sitting directly across from the Duchess was her brother, Leopold Grey, Duke of Grimsbury and Elizabeth's most serious suitor. As a marchioness, her rank was not high enough to allow her to sniff at his audacity. _Apparently, one no longer has to wait for the customary period of mourning to end before pursuing a lady._

The footmen present served sumptuous course after course, practically invisible to the guests and their charismatic hostess. Sebastian's little foray into the kitchens and last-minute substitution for one of the footmen would likely never be noted. While covertly surveying her hostess and potential second husband, Elizabeth gingerly served herself from the platter of thinly sliced potatoes that Sebastian held at her side. _God help me, I've lost count. Which course are we on now?_ She studied the tiny roasted snipe on her plate helplessly, as if the bird would pipe up and let her know which pieces of silverware to pick up.

A small huff from the other end of the table let her know that Lady Spell had failed to change conversationalists, and she smiled again while tuning out her own partner. Gladly, she did not have to suffer intimate social encounters with the capricious woman often, since Lady Spell was the second wife of the Earl of Brighton and therefore a degree below her in rank. Her head began aching as her eyes roamed over her set of glistening polished drinking glasses. The sherry glass had accompanied the first course, cream of celery and carrot soup, and lay empty. The good white wine had accompanied the fish and was also finished. Champagne had provided a delicious compliment to the sweetbreads served earlier. The _relevé_ had been a substantial meat pie lavished in a burgundy sauce with parsnips. The lights refracted through the glistening glasses and her headache steadily got worse. The claret glass was full at the moment, which meant two courses at least were left.

"Lady Atherton, how are your children faring?" Rosella Griffith took advantage of the changing courses to call out softly from across the table. Despite the sting of her headache, Elizabeth stoically inclined her head in her hostess' direction with a polite smile.

"Both Anne and Edward are doing very well. Thank you, Duchess. Edward will be spending the duration of the London season at the Marquess and Marchioness of Midford's country estate. He is looking forward to the fresh air." Of course, 'fresh air' meant more than just a change of scenery to Lady Atherton and the Duchess. It meant 'better health'.

"How delightful! My son will also be spending the season at our country estate." The Duchess beamed and reached for her claret. No soul but Elizabeth paid heed to the tinge of relieved color on the Duchess' face.

Elizabeth had found an unexpected friend in the Duchess many years ago. Rosella's eldest child was asthmatic and constantly ill. Those experiencing the constant anxiety of caring for and thinking about a chronically ill child found few sympathetic ears in London. Especially when said ill child was the sole heir of an expectant aristocratic family, support was harder to come by because secrecy dictated who could be told.

With an inward sigh of resignation, Elizabeth reached for the stem of her glass of claret and brought it to her lips. Her eyes closed, not to savor the dark chocolate piquancy with hints of raspberries swirling around her tongue, but rather to sneak in a very brief respite from the inane chatter. _Dear heavens above, will this be over soon?_

* * *

"Ow!"

"Will you shut up?!" The – to put it politely – rotund head cook elbowed one of her charges in the ribs quite forcefully as the head butler of the Griffith household walked by. The young maid rubbed at her chafed knuckles, already turning red from one blow with the butler's measuring rod. But the head butler was not quite finished with the cooking staff.

"Stop your simpering! I'll have you out on the street if you cannot do your job right." He raised the rod a second time. At the last minute, his arm jerked back, and the battalion of staff in the spacious kitchen gasped. After yanking his arm free, the head butler turned to face the tall lecherous-looking footman who had stayed his hand so effortlessly. His face an irate red, he beat a meaty fist on the man's chest.

"What insolence is this?!"

"With all due respect…" The footman's sarcasm could have dripped into a sizeable puddle at his feet. After a syrupy sweet smile aimed at the butler he continued.

"I believe that rod is only meant to be used for measuring appropriate distances between the dining utensils, sir, not terrorizing the underlings." The butler snorted indulgently.

"Think yourself above them, do you? By all means, show this household how superior you really are."

"Beggin' your pardon, sir, but the-"

"He can prepare what's left of the meal, Mrs. Tout. Step aside!" The butler's stiff command sent the kitchen staff scurrying like mice to the wall farthest from the counters and appliances. The footman brushed an unseen speck of dirt from his jacket and tossed his black hair back with an enigmatic smile that provoked the quickened breathing of the female staff who happened to be quite single. The head butler grumbled and pointed his measuring rod at him.

"You provide anything less than perfection, and the only job you could ever hope to hold again will be that of a chimney sweep in East London. Are we clear Mr…?"

"Sebastian, sir." The sultry reply made all the single ladies sigh.

Like a noble king surveying the most downtrodden of his subjects, Sebastian eyed the lemon-balm leaves wilting near the sharp cutlery, obviously past their prime. He offered the butler a stiff bow.

"If this is to be an excellent lemon-balm cake then there first must be good-quality ingredients at hand. Excuse me…" Affecting a distracted air, Sebastian made a hasty exit through the kitchen doorway by the ice box. The butler guffawed.

"Couldn't handle the heat, I wager. The poor soul's abandoned his post rather than face dismissal, and rest assured any of you lot who attempt the same cheekiness will-"

"My apologies for being gone so long." Sebastian smoothly directed his silky voice at the crowd observing him and returned to his position at the island counter. He spread a thickly wrapped bundle across the counter and carefully began unrolling it.

"What?! How…" The butler spluttered as the dark butler expertly tossed the wilted leaves behind him and out the window without as much as a glance over his suited shoulder. Deftly reaching for a pan and dusting it with flour, Sebastian began to lecture his captivated audience.

"Those deplorable excuses for lemon-balm leaves would have made for a blander taste. Keep in mind that we are attempting to delight the lady of the house and her guests. Notice the healthy green of the samples I have provided, reminiscent of fresh mint's hue. After a light but thorough flowering these leaves are to cover every inch of the bottom of this baking pan."

Another foot of the unrolled tarp revealed stainless white chicken's eggs and three bright yellow lemons. He smiled again.

"Really, using eggs directly from the chicken coop are the best avenue to take when creating the batter. The mixture must be palpable of course, but simultaneously frothy, so I shall also add a single yolk and beat in the granulated sugar a teaspoon at a time. Your recipe demands vanilla, but I think you will find lemon rind a more toothsome substitute." Sebastian, armed with an old wooden spoon, churned the mixture quickly. When he finished, he let the mixing bowl spin onto the counter without so much as a drop spilling. The butler tossed one lemon into the air and caught it with the angled edge of his clean index finger and twirled it. The awed eyes of the Griffith staff saw the rind fall onto the chopping board just as the peeled lemon hit the counter. With three swift strokes the rinds were fine and wispier than a tendril of hair. He showered the rinds on the top of the egg mixture.

"For a more uniform texture the flour and salt must be sifted together, and then folded carefully into the egg mixture one third at a time. I mean precisely one third. Do likewise with the melted butter." No one had seen the butter arriving at the table, nor had they noticed its melting, but the golden liquid frothed as it mixed with the contents of the mixing bowl. Not a single air bubble dared show itself, and the cake dared not collapse, as Sebastian deposited the batter into the pan and delivered it to the gaping hungry mouth of the oven. He moved to the abandoned saucepan creating an unpleasant signed smell in the kitchen. That also found its place on the ground outside the window. Sebastian's following admonishment turned the butler's face cherry red with embarrassment.

"The milk base for the custard sauce is to be scalded, not outright burnt. No matter. The more delicate lemon-balm sprigs are not meant to be used in the batter because it must accompany the milk to provide a slightly sour tang. Then sugar and cornstarch to thicken consistency…"

His strides delivered him to the pantry in a mere second and back to his station in even less time.

"The egg yolks are to be stirred in gently, the entire mixture heated until its consistency matches that of maple syrup, the contents strained into its bowl and then complimented with a tablespoon of the rum over there on that table."

He slid out from behind the counter and returned his gloves to his long tapered fingers. Swiftly pacing out of the door, he called out to his audience, still rooted to the floor.

"The batter will be a perfect golden-brown in precisely eighteen minutes. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've glasses to refill."

That night, the head butler of the Duchess of Kedington's household retired early, begging a severe, unsurmountable indisposition. It might very well have been because of the innumerable and supremely heartfelt accolades relayed to him about the enchanting flavor of the lemon-balm cake and custard sauce prepared for dessert.

* * *

"May I call a hansom for you, Lady Atherton?"

"You have my thanks, Your Grace, but that will be unnecessary. I've my own coach at my disposal this evening."

"Would you kindly permit me to escort you to it?" There was something so calm and mild about Leopold Grey that Elizabeth hesitated. Rather than a brisk refusal veiled in compliments and courtesy, she nodded at him and offered her arm, which he took gently.

"I am glad to hear that your children are doing well, my lady."

"As am I, Your Grace." She replied without thinking, and could have kicked herself for such an informal remark. His laugh was a cheery and unperturbed rumble, which brought a surprised blush to her face.

"Of course, my lady. I…it is perhaps presumptuous of me…"

"Your Grace?"

"Ah, I beg your forgiveness! I suppose I am a little nervous making such a request…We have known each other for many years. Though the timing may not be…the best, I am sure your mother has made my intentions clear?"

"Quite." It took a great amount of effort not to sound rueful. Her mother had been unceasingly reminding her of just what the Duke of Grimsbury's intentions were.

"Might I be allowed to call you Elizabeth?"

It was a good thing the Duke was too self-conscious to spare a glance at her, otherwise he would have seen the wry smile. _My mother might very well due of glee._

"Of course Your Grace-"

"Please, Leopold will suit me well…Elizabeth. Perhaps you may even find the confidence to call me "Leo" as my sister, our delightful hostess, always has."

"I shall have to thank your sister again for the lovely evening." Even if I don't really mean it. Thankfully the walk to her waiting coach was too short to invite further conversation. She turned, and nearly gasped when he spontaneously bent to kiss her hand. And then her wrist. And then her knuckles as he clasped her hand in both of his. She made the mistake of looking into his eyes as he straightened and grinned. _Oh, those expressive blue eyes. Nice…_

"Perhaps it can be arranged for us to sit nearer to each other at another engagement. I enjoy your company Elizabeth."

"And I yours…Leopold. I bid you goodnight."

"Goodnight." He finally released her hand as she settled herself on the seat inside her carriage. With one last smile he shut the door quietly and retreated. Only after the coach rounded a bend in the road and bumped over some cobblestones did the door on the other side open to allow Sebastian access. Elizabeth raised her brows sharply.

"Have you just decided to let the cab drive itself?"

"Of course not, madam. That would be terribly remiss of me. I've hired a local driver to see you home."

"Thank you, Sebastian. On another note, as delightful as it was to have something to shake me out of my apathetic state, you really should not have shown off so flagrantly." Sebastian leaned back in his seat across from his mistress, enjoying his pretense of ignorance.

"I beg your pardon?" Lady Atherton sighed crossly.

"I have been in attendance at the Duchess' townhome before. The cake, as you well know, could not have been the work of the kitchen staff hired by the Duchess. A social call from Queen Alexandra could not inspire them to perform above mediocrity."

"I do not recall signing a formal contract, my lady. Therefore, I regret to inform you that I may have forgotten to perform your instructions to the letter."

"I may rectify that soon so long as you don't provoke me." At this sing-song promise, Sebastian smiled grimly and noiselessly breathed in, savoring what could very well be his next feast.

"So, you did enjoy your dessert?"

"Yes."

"Excellent. What of your companions, my lady?" Her gaze had been directed out the window, but then her head swiveled so that she could frown at him.

"What of them?"

"Lady Spell was invited. I was…stunned that any above her peerage should pay her the attention suggested by that of a dinner invitation."

"And as a butler, your opinion is everything." Sebastian smirked as his mistress' gaze returned to the passing townhomes of London. Something had put her very out of sorts, and he might get the chance to chase it away via an appropriate method. Or perhaps an inappropriate method…

His chuckle invited her to scrutinize him once more; this time, Elizabeth only sighed and pressed a hand to her aching head. He silently switched sides and removed his gloves. He placed his index fingers at her temples and began to rub. After a futile attempt to slap his hands away, Elizabeth slumped as much as she could with incurring the inanimate wrath of her corset.

"So impertinent, Sebastian."

"Regardless, permit me to help you my lady." A moment of taut silence was followed by a soft, breathy huff of consent.

"I highly doubt you were in the least bit stunned by Lady Spell's inclusion. You already know the situation that woman is in."

"Is it conceivable that she is the one marketing information to our foreign competitors?" She watched him carefully, even as he mindlessly raked a few stray curls over her eyes in an effort to soothe her temples.

"While I would like to point out that she doesn't even possess the wit to keep her gloves properly in her lap…anyone is capable of espionage."

"Even the Duke of Grimsbruy?"

"Why? Did you uncover anything new recently?"

"Not precisely. But, as the sole executive of the Atherton interests, you might want to be thoroughly sure you could tolerate "Leopold's" involvement. He may even choose to interfere outright."

"Sebastian, this is merely a diversion to keep my mother from breathing too hard down my neck."

"I see." The butler sounded slightly displeased, and Elizabeth was very careful to hide her unholy glee at the prospect. She couldn't restrain herself from teasing him a little.

"The Duke has nice, expressive blue eyes…"

"How do you fancy the thought of being his third Duchess? The first two passed away during the stressful ordeal of childbirth."

"I do believe I might fare better than them. Presuming that His Grace is that serious, of course."

"No doubt he is."

"Jealousy does not become a butler, Sebastian."

"No, my lady. My apologies."

"Accepted-"

Without any warning, the carriage smashed into something large and metal with an unholy crunching sound. It titled precariously to the side, almost spilling both of them out. Elizabeth tumbled directly into Sebastian's arms. He gripped her in his arms tightly, and as a sharpened spike tunneled through the sitting area it only barely missed her head. A second sharp spike tore through the carriage. It pierced Elizabeth's evening dress, but could not penetrate the whalebone corset. Trying to steal deep breaths to stop her alarm, Elizabeth began to convulse under the pressure of her stays. Her hand shook as she pried the spike free and unsheathed her dagger. Sebastian looked up sharply to see the cabby he'd hired scurrying away, throwing his payment back at Sebastian through the shattered window.

"Take it back! The coin ain't worth it mister!" The door of the carriage was ripped from its hinges to reveal a thug of freakish size, an ugly tattooed bat displaying its wings on the left side of his face and under his thick beard. He lunged for Sebastian's lapels and tugged him up so that they were face-to-face.

"Little lady is mine." The thick, flawed English words landed flatly at the black butler's shined shoes. Sebastian was utterly still for a moment, and then showed him a passive smile.

"As you wish." The thug grinned for a moment at Sebastian's reply, revealing the few yellowed teeth her had left. Sebastian brought his fist up to connect with the underside of the assailant's chin, a loud crack piercing the atmosphere. The thug staggered back and helplessly tried to fend off Sebastian's lightning-quick reflexes. Blow after blow rained onto the thug, making his lips and the skin of his eyes well up, drawing blood from his cheeks and chin.

The muscles on his broad shoulders tensed as the thug hauled himself to his feet and swung a mighty blow in Sebastian's direction. With the grace of a lithe panther he sidestepped it and turned to his mistress, who had stumbled out of the overturned carriage, knife in her hands.

"Give her or you die."

"My mistress-"

"Give or you both die!"

"Your orders, my lady?"

"It's self-defense now." A dismissive wave of her free hand had the same effect as a gunshot sound on racehorses. Limber, silent and deadly, the butler parried the heavy battering of the attacker and returned the violence in kind with his own speedy, slicing movements. The thug's vision turned from a clouded gray to a murky black as white gloved hands moved over his throat.

Sebastian released the oversized attacker just as an impossibly slim shadow melted into Elizabeth's view. She lunged without hesitation, knife still in her steady hand. The shadow yelped and leaped under the street light. This attacker was little more than a scrawny, starving man. He offered a grim smirk of recognition, but dared not speak aloud. As the two began their dance of violence, their hooded eyes spoke for them.

 _I never thought I would see the hideous face of a shadow demon again._

 _Surprise! Nice seeing you too. Wondered what you're up to with this chit, Sebastian._

 _Never fear, Remington. Soon you won't have anything to be concerned about._ They lunged and sidestepped like the most elegant of fencers, deadlier than the ninjas of the East. Subtly, the attacker's head bobbed towards Elizabeth finished off the greatly weakened thug.

 _Too much fire in her to be a natural blonde. Not your usual bit of stuff._

 _Please. Humans are not my type._

 _This one seems to be quite your type._

 _You're always been too discerning for your own good Remington._ Sebastian's arms were around this new assailant's neck.

 _I'm glad we've caught up. I'll call on you sometime. My best wishes to your mistress._ As sudden as a flash of lightning a previously concealed dagger sliced through the air, its mark being Elizabeth's pale chest.

A red haze across his vision, a cracking sound like slow thunder, and the subtle click of steel colliding with bone all registered in Sebastian's mind slowly. He heard a gasp from far away, and only realized that he'd made the sound as Elizabeth tore a glove from her hand and placed it on his shoulder gently. He looked down, surprised to find himself on his knees, the blade nestled deep in his chest, very close to his black heart. Ears ringing, he looked at Lady Atherton unseeingly, disturbed at the sudden turn of the tables. I should have predicted the blade. My hunger is depriving my judgment. What he assumed was the usual lecherous lick of his lips looked more like a gasp for air to his mistress.

Just as silently as he arrived, the shadow stole away into the night. Eyes narrowing, Elizabeth wrung her arm back, pinned the retreating figure with a murderous glance, and tossed her blade expertly…

A resounding ping off of some unseen object sent her into a furious flurry of screaming and swearing. Of all the times to miss her target, this had been the occasion. Sebastian rose to pursue him; only the feeling of his mistress' tiny fingers, trembling with rage and clutching at his arm worriedly, stayed him.

"My lady, let me-"

"Sebastian! Look at how grave your injury is…" She was at a loss only for a second. Then, with a shocking amount of strength she wrestled her way under his shoulders, forcing him to lean on her and supporting all of his weight as she half dragged him back to the carriage. Not as gravely harmed as she might suspect, Sebastian prepared to remove the blade himself. However, Elizabeth had swiftly lain him down on the floor of the carriage and gently cradled his head between her warm, now ungloved hands.

Startled, Sebastian took a moment to formulate his next move. Oblivious to his true nature and ability to heal quickly, Elizabeth's little fingers moved to his shoulders, caressed them, as she measured up the knife plunged into his chest. He smiled whilst she was otherwise distracted. _The butler of the Atherton household…may require some coddling on occasion_. Already, his thoughts were turning darker than the night from which the attackers had crawled. Perhaps, out of pity if nothing else, she would make a contract with him. Playing his part to the letter, Sebastian rearranged his features into a stoic mask and attempted to pick himself out of her lap.

"The carriage-…We are need of-"

"A driver, yes I know stupid!" Showing that apparently inherent temper of hers, Elizabeth smoothed his hair away from his face, rolled her shoulders back, and lightly set him down so that she could climb out of the carriage. Had he not been such an infernal creature, the jarring of the carriage as it was righted again would have pained him greatly. He was sure to pretend such a typical mortal reaction as his mistress returned to his side. What he did not expect, and dearly hoped was nothing more than a weakening of his perceptions, was Elizabeth's gentle smile as she leaned down and pressed her lips to his brow, just above one of his black eyes.

"No fever, thankfully. You just rest quietly, Sebastian. I will see us home and tend to your wounds." He felt his black frozen heart beat again as she offered him another soothing smile, then shut the carriage door. What the devil? His thoughts were racing as angrily as the hellish blood in his veins, too quickly for him to appreciate the irony of his psychological words. _Do I want to eat the morsel…or something else entirely?_

* * *

Out of sheer determination alone Elizabeth managed to put the horses up for the night correctly and stow the carriage. Sebastian, wading far too deep in his thoughts to notice his surrounds, did not have to feign weakness from blood loss. He allowed his mistress to guide him up the dark staircase of the Atherton townhome and to her private rooms. After a moment's deliberation she chose to lay him on her bed and began rummaging through her things.

"…hurt"

"I-I beg your pardon?" Sebastian heard her sweet voice from far away, but her swift yank on the knife imbedded in his chest brought him back into reality like a bucket of ice water. He inhaled in surprise, which Elizabeth took for an expression of pain. Something damp was pressed onto his wound.

"I've some dried geraniums that I've just wetted down, and I've concocted a charcoal paste to dress the wound. Let me apply this cloth to see if I can staunch what bleeding there is."

"Charlatan's solutions, my lady. I could do better." In the process of lighting the kerosene lamp at her bedside, Elizabeth paused and eyed him disapprovingly.

"Glad to see that a grievous wound adjacent to a vital organ hasn't seemed to wound your impudence. You're in no position to criticize me. Anyway, I've my nursing license if that is what concerns you."

Rather than drawing on his powers to close the wound as he normally would, the conniving butler allowed some of his blood to flow out, soaking his shirt and prompting Elizabeth to carefully peel it away. She offered a quiet, distracted hum of dissatisfaction. Sebastian did not take that kindly at all and glared at her strongly. She chuckled and tapped him on the nose.

"What have I done to offend now, my lady?"

"I suppose I expected…more muscles?"

"…Oh…really?" Her hair was brushing his face, her soul so close to him that he could taste the blooming corruption that made her such an appealing dining option in the first place.

"Well, as a child I always was of the opinion that you were invincible. I guess old age is catching up with you, Sebastian." She smirked at him mischievously as she wrapped the last of a long terrycloth across his chest tightly; her smirk turned into an "o" of surprise and a yelp as he pulled on her hair and held her captive on his chest.

"Such lecherous tendencies, really-"

"Thank you, my lady." Absently he moved his gloved hands through her hair. Elizabeth made to retreat, only he yanked the glove off with his teeth and moved his bare hand to her soft cheek. With a small movement of her fine hair, now falling out of its arrangement, Elizabeth agreed to her butler's wordless request. Getting up, she strode to the door, locked it, and returned to place her head against Sebastian's beating heart.

"Have a care, butler. This is only so I can make sure you don't stop breathing during the night."

"Of course…" He drifted into his thoughts, allowing his breathing to slow to a faint pace. She nestled closer, thinking he had passed out and obviously wanting to ensure he did not die so indecorously in her bed. He waited without a sound, sprawled like a mangled wooden plank on Lady Atherton's canopied bed. Not even a grasshopper stirred outside, and every last polished floorboard remained silent as if in deference to them. Several hours later, when her own breathing had slowed and her eyes had shut, Sebastian cupped the base of her skull softly and stroked the little curls of golden hair away from the back of her neck. He could not bring her close enough to soothe himself no matter how tightly his arms wrapped around her smaller frame. Only then, in the stillness of the night, without any witnesses, did he utter one last thing before allowing himself to imitate the human action of sleep.

 _"My Elizabeth…"_


End file.
